Let the Flames Begin
by Digitallace
Summary: H/D slash- Birthday fic for my dear Laurel. Straightforward story about misunderstandings, love, scheming and voyeurism... Two-shot
1. Part 1

Authors Note: So this story was written for my lovely friend and beta Laurel for her birthday. In it I was to include a fear of balloons, a Monty Python quote/reference (50 points to anyone who catches it) Leather pants & Fairy lights. I'm fairly certain I crammed them all in there between either the first or second part. This was supposed to be a oneshot, but it's rather long so I'm breaking it into two parts, so technically for her birthday she gets a cliffhanger (which is only appropriate I think). The second chapter will be posted tomorrow. Many thanks to my army of emergency beta's Shannon, Cris and Andrea!! Love you Laurel and Happy Birthday!!

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**Let the Flames Begin – Part 1**

Draco had never really considered himself much of an action guy. He played the odd bit of Quidditch but mostly because he liked to fly, not particularly because he enjoyed the game or even the camaraderie. He was good with a wand, but not the best by any means. He had always shied away from getting his hands dirty, preferring instead to assign such tasks to fat brainless lumps like Crabbe and Goyle.

No, Draco was more of a voyeur than a doer. He liked to watch; people mostly, for their habits, strengths and weaknesses. He liked to size them up and weight them against himself so that he could better determine their value to him. That was what made him sit through Quidditch games when he was young, what had him spying on his father's business meetings and what had him eavesdropping on his mother's private tea parties.

Once school began however, Draco found that his skills were put to the test when he came across one Harry James Potter. The Gryffindor -who without a second thought chose a poor excuse for a pureblood over a Malfoy- was nothing but an anomaly. He was like action incarnate, always running, shouting, doing and being; it was as if he were in every way Draco's opposite, which intrigued the Slytherin to no end.

Even their appearances were vastly contrasted; Harry was dark and warm while Draco was light and cool. Harry was kind and considerate toward others while Draco tended to lock others out of his heart and mind altogether. It frustrated Draco so immensely that he couldn't seem to understand his nemesis; so he watched him.

Now, his voyeurism was not what brought him –at twenty-three years, four months, eighteen days and six hours old- to live in the home of the very same Harry Potter who he'd feuded with for as long as he could recall, but it was what had him sitting in a chair and watching the man sleep soundly.

It was one of those nights where the former Gryffindor hero had been so exhausted that he fell into bed without a care. When Draco had arrived in the room, carefully avoiding the three squeaking floorboards near the door, he set to work carefully removing the raven-haired man's glasses and his trainers and setting them quietly beside the bed. He then tucked Potter in and with a barely there press of the lips, kissed the scar on Harry's forehead before retiring to his usual chair in the corner.

Draco had no real idea why it was so relaxing to watch his former enemy sleep, but he often found himself there, gazing in secret until dawn blossomed through the windows and forced him back to his own room before Harry woke and found him there. Insomnia seemed to be the curse placed upon him for years of maliciousness as a child. Nightmares plagued him if he ever attempted to sleep at night, so he'd venture to Harry's room –always masked by darkness and a well-placed disillusionment charm- and it would calm him enough that he might sleep for a few hours afterward, while the rest of the house bustled together for breakfast.

He lived with several others at Harry's home –the most Ancient and Noble House of Black, otherwise referred to by the various tenants as Number Twelve. The war was over, the dust long settled and though living with a herd of Gryffindor's wasn't his first choice, he was happier there than he would have imagined possible. He'd been sharing the home for several years now, having moved in shortly after turning eighteen. Both of his parents were tried and convicted of their crimes during the war, and they warmed a cell together in Azkaban while their fortune and property were auctioned off. Draco was left with nothing, or near to it, and felt broken and battered by the world around him. No longer did he have a place as Pureblood elite, but instead he was often treated as yesterday's rubbish. Eventually he had to stop sulking and do something about it though, so he found a job in St. Mungo's mental therapy department.

The position utilized the best of his skills; allowing him to watch, listen and assess a person's issues with ease, though he found the act of having to sit through mundane life story after mundane life story a bit… well, mundane. Still, it afforded him a small flat, ghastly and remote, but his. It was at the prestigious wizarding hospital that he began making amends for his past sins. Not only was he helping people for a living, but he was also working side by side with none other than Hermione Granger.

Their union was tenuous at the start, both of them choosing to speak only when spoken to and otherwise avoiding each other. After awhile, however, Hermione learned to appreciate Draco's dry humor, and he began to respect her infallible work ethic. They started a more 'friendly' relationship –nothing unseemly, just the occasional lunch together or shared tea in the mornings.

One morning, Draco made the mistake of letting Hermione come to his flat before heading out for breakfast. That was when all hell broke loose.

"Draco, you can't possibly live here," she demanded with a turned up nose. Hermione wasn't one who paid much attention to outward appearances, but even she couldn't stand to look at the place. Her shoes made a sticking noise on the floor when she walked, the air was musty and stale, and the wallpaper was peeling and yellowed. The furniture was nothing to speak of; just a rotten looking couch and a rickety table with a matching chair, and since it was a studio, the bed was crammed into the living room with the rest of it.

It horrified Hermione to think of someone she cared about –and for some odd reason she had started caring for Malfoy- living in squalor.

"What do you spend your money on?" she asked nosily. "You really need to prioritize."

"Thanks, but this is it. It's not as if I have a closet full of high-end designer robes," he huffed. He had hoped that Hermione would have been tactful enough to grimace and leave the subject alone, but clearly that had been too high an expectation.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head knowingly. "I know you can afford better than this; we do the same job, remember? Is it drugs?" she asked, shooting him a pitiful look.

Draco narrowed his eyes and waved her out of the flat, following and shutting the door tightly behind him. He rummaged through his robe pocket, procured a stub from his recent paycheck and handed it over. She studied it for a moment, and Draco suspected she was contemplating checking it for masking charms. Eventually she simply handed it back to him and looked rather furious. "How can you make so much less than me?" she demanded. "We do the same work, and you're just as good. I don't understand!"

"I'm the son of two convicted Death Eaters, and you're the best friend of the hero," Draco replied, a slight bitterness to his tone. He knew it was unfair, but he also knew there was little he could do to change the minds of a committee of bureaucrats.

"That shouldn't matter! This is an outrage! Why, I'm going to go to them and demand-" she began, her voice raising to a shrill octave that made Draco cringe.

"You'll do nothing," he interrupted. "I'm not losing my job because you lost your temper. Just leave it be. I'm fine; I don't need anyone's charity."

He knew his tone had slipped into his old haughty nature, but he didn't care. He didn't like the way things were, but he knew that the only way to change them was to prove that he wasn't his father and that would take time.

Luckily, Hermione dropped it, and they were able to have a pleasant day. At least, Draco thought she had dropped it. Later that week proved him wrong however.

He was invited to where Hermione lived with several others, and though he was reluctant to go, he thought it best not to rudely turn away her offer of lunch with her friends since he was in fact one of them now. Draco was under the impression that it would be better to get everything out of the way all at once, sort of like ripping off a bandage –it would sting, but only for a moment- so he begrudgingly agreed to lunch with _all_ of her friends.

At the door, he was greeted by Weasley –the Ron variety, which he soon realized was only one of four Weasley varieties living there. The man grunted a greeting, obviously not thrilled with Malfoy's arrival but determined to be civil. Draco was equally determined, as Ron was Hermione's fiancé after all, and if Draco wanted to be friends with Hermione, he'd have to be friends with her future husband – or so Granger told him anyway.

Next in line –because it seemed that the entire household had set up a receiving area of him- was the girl Weasley, followed by the twins. After that was Looney Lovegood -who he had to make a conscious effort not to refer to her as such- Neville Longbottom and last but certainly not least, the man of the house, Harry Potter. Draco suppressed a groan as he looked upon the man he'd been an enemy of for years, even though the last they'd seen of one another was right after the war.

Draco had to admit, Potter looked good. Auror training had done well by his physique and his obsidian hair –though still messy- fit perfectly with the chiseled jaw line and broad shoulders he had developed. His glasses sat rather lopsided on his nose, just as Draco remembered from school, and his eyes shone bright green behind them. He smiled weakly at Draco then left the group and headed toward what Draco suspected was the kitchen.

Hermione looked on from the corner and shrugged slightly, a gesture Draco knew to mean that she had no idea why Harry simply took off. She led Draco into the other room where a nice lunch was all laid out, and they sat chatting awkwardly yet amicably over sandwiches and pumpkin juice. Potter joined them later, but just hung back quietly and ate without a word.

It was nearing two in the afternoon, and Draco couldn't believe he'd spent so long there. The twins were vastly entertaining with their tales about running the Weasley Wizard Wheezes stores; there were now three of them. Luna was the only non-Gryffindor, but you'd never be able to tell she was in Ravenclaw unless you really listened to some of her dreamy advice. It worried Draco when he discovered that she was beginning to make sense. She and one of the twins were an item it seemed –though he couldn't tell which was her boyfriend because both Fred and George looked the same to him. Then Ginevra and Neville were paired off as well, which made Draco to wonder if the rest of the house was coupled as well –leaving the other twin and of course Harry. He was displeased to realize he didn't like the idea of the two boys together; not one bit, but laughed it off as a fairly preposterous suggestion.

"So Malfoy," one of the twins asked; Draco thought it might be George. "Hermione's always got great stories from her job. Tell us one of yours."

"Yeah," the other twin piped in… maybe that one was George. "Who's been your craziest patient?"

"They're not crazy!" Hermione chastised, and Draco imagined she must have to say that a lot around this crowd, but the twins ignored her.

Draco knew exactly which story to tell them. "Okay, so there's this woman named Laurel, she's not a patient really, as in it's not as if she stays there. She just has regular appointments set up so that she can tell me what's bothering her."

"It's because she's hot for your body," Hermione teased, having met the woman he spoke of on a few occasions.

"Not true, but apart from that I see her about once a month, maybe a little less," Draco explained.

"So, aside from her being attracted to you, what's wrong with her?" Ron asked playfully.

Draco rolled his eyes but continued. "Well, nothing much at first, I mean she has some quirky hobbies-"

"Like what?" Luna asked, clearly interested in something she might be able to relate to.

"Like writing gay romance stories," Draco offered.

"Gay men or gay women?" the twins asked in unison.

"Men," Draco replied and both boys grimaced dramatically and waved for Draco to continue. That answered his question about Fred –or was it George- and Harry he supposed. In fact his eyes flicked up to the green-eyed hero, but found Harry staring at his own cup.

"So what else?" the twins prompted when Draco didn't continue immediately.

"Well, she just does this writing for fun, so no harm no foul. She's Australian-" he began again, but was once more cut off, this time by laughter from everyone at the table.

"Say no more, mate. She's crazy, we get it," Ron teased.

"Throw another shrimp on the barbie," one twin joked in a terrible impersonation of an Aussie accent.

"A dingo ate my baby!" the other exclaimed in an equally bad tribute.

"That wasn't the funny bit," Draco groaned and shook his head.

"Go on then," Ron prodded.

"Well, last session I find out she has Globaphobia," Draco laughed, but everyone else just stared at him blankly, not understanding what that meant.

"She's afraid of balloons," Hermione explained and the rest of the table joined Draco's laughter.

"Balloons?" Ron asked when he caught his breath.

"Yup. She's afraid of them popping," Draco elaborated.

"It's not nice to make fun of people," Hermione lectured through her own snicker.

It was nearly dark outside before the group quieted from their story telling and retired to the sitting room. Harry again hung at the back of the group, and they all cast knowing glances at him. Draco felt completely left out of the loop for the first time that day.

"Let's put it to a vote then," Harry said cryptically. "All who agree to 'Mione's terms raise your hand."

Every hand went up, and Draco looked at them all quizzically and began to wonder if he was about to be sacrificed or voted out of England.

"So be it," Harry said with a curt nod and walked off again, this time heading upstairs.

Hermione squealed and grabbed Draco by the hand pulling him up the stairs with the rest of the group in tow. Harry was nowhere to be seen when Hermione got to the top floor and flung open one of the doors there. Inside was a bedroom -a very nice bedroom- complete with a large four-poster bed, a wardrobe, a sitting area and a private bath. It was actually bigger than his flat and Draco looked at Hermione quizzically.

"No offense Hermione, but I'm just not attracted to you, and you're engaged," Draco said motioning toward the bed.

Hermione rolled her eyes and swatted him in the arm. "Stop being ridiculous. We want you to live here."

Draco's eyes widened slightly, and then he burst out laughing. "And _I'm_ the one being ridiculous?"

"We're serious," she protested. "I told them all about your flat-"

"You told them?" Draco whined, feeling his face heat up.

"And we agreed to have you over and see if you got on with everyone," she continued, ignoring Draco's outburst. "Then we voted."

"No need to consult me I suppose," Draco griped, feeling desperately awkward. He didn't need a group of Gryffindor's (and one Ravenclaw) deciding to pity him and add him to their little family.

"That's what we're doing now," Ginevra pointed out. "We had to make sure we could all get on with you before Hermione offered though."

"But we do," the twins added with mischievous grins, and Draco suspected all they cared about was a fresh guinea pig living upstairs.

"So?" Hermione prompted.

"I have a flat," Draco protested.

"You have a rubbish bin with a door," Hermione corrected.

"It's already really full here. I don't want to inconvenience anyone by being one more roommate," Draco added.

"Ginny and Neville are getting their own place soon," Hermione countered.

"It's not even your house, it's Harry's. You can't just vote me in here. It's pretty clear that he doesn't like the idea," Draco pointed out, hoping this last ditch effort might relieve him of this embarrassing situation.

"How is that clear?" came a deep and sultry voice from the back of the group, and Draco watched as everyone parted to reveal Harry leaning against the doorjamb and looking like sex incarnate having changed into a pair of low slung pajama bottoms and a tight vintage tee-shirt.

Draco couldn't find the words that had been on the tip of his tongue only moments before as he stared into Potter's brilliant green eyes. "You haven't said a word all day," Draco replied at last, happy that his voice didn't betray his dry throat.

Harry merely shrugged, his shirt riding up just an inch or two and revealing a flash of sun-kissed flesh. "I didn't have anything to say," he replied simply.

His entire body began to burn as Draco watched Potter's eyes sparkle like jewels. When had he become so damn sexy? "Y-you didn't vote," Draco stammered.

"All in favor," Harry said, and everyone raised his or her hands again, this time Harry did as well. "Better?" he asked, and Draco nodded dumbly, having found it quite better to be flashed a bit more of Potter's tight torso.

"So it's agreed, Draco you're now living at Number Twelve, go get your things," Hermione ordered, and Draco shuffled down the stairs under the watchful eye of his new roommates, baffled that he had agreed to it in the first place –and not sure he actually had agreed, but every time he thought of refusing again, Potter's stare flooded his vision and his stomach clenched violently at the idea of not being near him always.

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It was rather odd how easily Draco settled in with the rest of them. Despite Hermione's bullying him into moving there, he was quite happy with the arrangement. The surroundings were a huge improvement of course, and the company was nice, but everyone had their own schedules, so they all just came and went as they pleased so it never really felt like Draco was living with over half a dozen other people.

As Hermione mentioned, it wasn't long before Ginevra and Neville moved to Hogwarts where Longbottom had been offered a position in Herbology, so then it was down to three Weasley's and one less Gryffindor.

The worst part about living there wasn't the fact that there were so many others there too, however, it was that Draco rarely saw the one roommate he was eager to see more of.

Harry's work hours made him quite illusive. He was rarely at meals, never joined them in the sitting room afterward, and when he was there he was quiet –a vast difference from the energetic boy he'd gone to school with.

"So what's the deal with Potter?" Draco asked one morning on their way into work.

"How do you mean?" Hermione inquired softly, as if she were hiding something.

"I _mean_," Draco replied dramatically. "Why is he so different from at Hogwarts."

"He's not that different. He's just busy," she denied, and Draco could tell it was an evasion of the truth because he specialized in the trait –or used to at least.

"Bullocks. I might not have been all buddy-buddy with him in school, but I remember what he was like," he said, and Hermione sighed.

"I think he's –and if you repeat this to anyone I'll hex your arse off- I think he's lonely," she replied at last.

"How can anyone be lonely in a house full of people?" Draco asked, but deep down he understood. Harry had been trapped in a house full of couples for over a year, while he remained alone and unattached.

Draco already felt a little like that himself, and he'd only been there a few months. It wasn't anything big; it's not as if the happy couples would start shagging on the sofa for everyone to see or anything, but it was little things that always made Draco feel left out. Luna and Fred –for he found out later that night that it was Fred, not George she was dating- often snuggled by the fireplace or fed each other at meals. George had his girlfriend Angela over pretty often, and they loved to snog in the kitchen when they thought no one else was around. It was even tormenting when Hermione and Ron argued because in the end, Ron would shoot Hermione a crooked grin, Hermione would sigh, give in and all would be well again, and Draco knew what would come later when the two were alone.

What Draco wouldn't give to have a lover's spat and make-up sex. It wasn't fair. All around him, people were coupling up and getting married or at the very least getting engaged.

Hermione merely shrugged at his reply, not understanding at all since she was one of the people in blissful coupledom. "I don't know. He just can't seem to find the right gu- er person."

"You were about to say 'guy'!" he blurted. "Is Harry gay?"

"I never said that," she replied briskly and quickened her pace. She was no match for Draco's long legs, however, and he caught up in two strides.

"Tell me," he demanded. It couldn't possibly be true could it? Could the boy Draco was lusting after actually share the same feelings? He banished the thought right away though. Draco hadn't given much thought to the reality of Potter and him as a couple before when he assumed Potter was straight, but now it seemed fairly clear that Harry just wasn't interested. Why else would Harry avoid him as if he had leprosy?

"It's not for me to tell one way or the other," she admonished. "Why does it matter?" she asked, and Draco watched her face go from mild curiosity to abject shock in seconds. "Come to think of it, you've never introduced me to one of your girlfriends," she teased, or at least it seemed that she thought she was teasing until Draco spoke again.

"That's because I don't date women. I like men," Draco replied honestly, purposefully taking all the fun out of her jab.

"Really?" she asked, a look of genuine surprise on her face. "I was just-"

"Joshing, I know, but yes, I'm gay. I love the cock, can't get enough. Love to-" I began but Hermione shook her head, cutting me off.

"I get it," she replied. "No need to be crude."

Draco laughed. "I wouldn't find it offensive if you announced that you loved cock," Draco challenged.

"Oh yeah?" Hermione replied. "Well I do. I love cock with freckles and red pubic hair," she teased, and Draco made a choking sound.

"Now that was crude," he joked, and they shared a laugh.

"I guess we're even then," she remarked.

"Does it really have freckles?" he asked with a grimace, and Hermione slugged him lightly in the arm.

"Now about you and Harry," she mused, and Draco's eyebrows shot up suspiciously.

"What about me and Harry?" he asked, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Why don't you two go out?" she asked.

"You know, not all gay men are attracted to one another simply because they're gay," Draco told her rather firmly.

"Are you attracted to Harry?" she asked, already seeming to know the answer.

"That's not the point," he muttered.

"What is?" she asked with a laugh.

"He's rarely even home, and when he is he doesn't give me the time of day," Draco grumbled.

"Aw, you really _do_ like him," Hermione replied pitifully and patted Draco on the back –to which he scowled at her.

"The point is I don't know if I like him. He's hot… really hot, but I don't _know_ him," Draco replied.

"He's great," Hermione assured him.

"So you say," Draco muttered. "Anyway, if Harry were even remotely interested he would at the very least talk to me."

"Maybe," Hermione whispered, and then they had to part ways and get to work. It wasn't until that Friday night that Draco found out what that 'maybe' meant.

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"I'm not going," Draco told her firmly.

"You will go, you will have fun, and you _will_ wear this," Hermione demanded as she pointed to a tight, slinky black shirt and a pair of black leather pants.

"No I'm not," Draco repeated. "And where did you get these anyhow? Gay-R-Us?"

Hermione snickered and shook her head. "Harry's closet."

Draco's jaw dropped, and he began to laugh. "You're kidding, right?"

"They look really good on him, and you two were about the same size," she mused defensively.

"I'm taller," Draco corrected.

"Not by much," she protested.

"By enough to make those look ridiculous on me," Draco told her, holding them up to demonstrate.

"Fine," she said as she snickered at the gap the pants would have left at Draco's ankles. "Then what are you wearing?"

"Nothing," Draco replied.

"Well, that will certainly make an impression," Hermione noted with a wink.

"I'm wearing nothing because I'm _not_ going," Draco repeated. "I don't do clubs, Hermione, and you can't even guarantee that Harry will come; even if he does it's not as if you can force him to notice me."

"No, but _you_ can force him to notice you, and he will be there. He promised," she whined, and Draco already knew he was going to give in so he might as well get something out of the bargain.

"Fine, but I'm picking out my attire and you're buying me a drink as soon as we get there," he demanded. Hermione nodded quickly and beamed at him. "And you'll buy me three more if Harry doesn't talk to me, four if he doesn't show," he added.

"He'll show, and he'll be all over you," she teased before dancing out Draco's bedroom door.

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The club was full to bursting when they arrived. Everyone at Number Twelve came with them as if they were all in on the plan and wanted to watch the show of epic failure. There was a reason Draco didn't have a boyfriend already. There was certainly no shortage of hot guy men in London, but Draco was a watcher. It was much easier to catch a man while grinding together on a dance floor, but much more difficult when sitting at a dark corner booth -watching.

He had a sinking feeling that Hermione wasn't going to let that happen tonight though.

His first drink was purchased by Hermione -as arranged- and by one in the morning he was nudging her for his next one. "He's not coming," Draco groaned.

"He'll be here," she argued.

"The club closes in two hours," Draco protested.

"He'll be here," she repeated, and as if that was Harry's queue to enter, he emerged from the pulsing crowd and started walking toward them.

It was a sight for sore eyes watching Harry make his way across the dance floor. With every beat of the music Harry's foot hit the ground as if his journey to the table was his own dance. His eyes were locked on Draco, and they stayed that way as one after the other, different men groped, grabbed and tried to pull Harry's attention toward them instead. But Harry politely moved out of reach with a seductive shift of hips or a grazed hand on their shoulder. He moved like a ship through water, and the sea of men seemed to part willingly to let him through –even if it was for the chance to check out his arse.

"Hey," he shouted over the beat of music that still rang in Draco's ear. "I wasn't sure I would find you in here. Where the hell did you find this place, Mione?" he asked, his green eyes leaving Draco's for the first time.

"A co-worker told me about it," she confessed.

"Is this why you set these out for me to wear?" he asked with an amused smile, pointing at the black leather pants he was sporting. Hermione had been right, he looked great in them, better than great. They looked like an orgasm made from tight shiny fabric, and Draco just wanted to lick him –but instead he just sat there and watched.

Harry hadn't worn the slinky top that Hermione had tried to force on Draco though, instead opting for a subtler black tee shirt. "So, are you going to dance with me since you dragged me out to this infernal place?" Harry asked Hermione.

"No, but Draco will," she offered.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, his eyes going back to Draco. He thought there was something different about the raven-haired man, and he spotted it then –no glasses. His eyes shone brighter than ever without them. "Come on then."

A sharp elbow to the ribcage from Hermione forced Draco up, and he took Harry's hand and let him lead them out on the dance floor. He was desperately hoping not to make an arse of himself out there, but Harry made it seem easy, so Draco just went with it. The beat was heavy, and before long their hair was soaked through with sweat. Draco knew he probably looked like a drowned rat, but Harry looked like a glistening god as his body moved around Draco and pressed against him.

Just as Draco started to feel the awkwardness leave him and he got used to the rhythm he and Harry had created between them, the music shifted and a new song began playing –a much slower song.

Harry shot him a crooked grin and draped his arms across Draco's shoulders, locking his hands behind Draco's neck. Draco had no idea where to put his hands and so eventually just settled for wrapping them around the Gryffindor's trim waist. They just sort of swayed there while Draco tried to think of something witty or charming to say.

"So how do you like our lot so far?" Harry asked, beating him to the punch.

"I love you," Draco said and then blushed furiously. "I mean, I love guys –er you guys, all of you that is, Hermione, Ron-"

Harry laughed and shook his head in mock dismay. "I never thought I'd see the day when silver-tongued Draco Malfoy was at a loss for words."

"You make me nervous," Draco admitted and then wished that he hadn't.

"Why is that?" Harry asked, his head tilted to the side in a questioning stance.

He wanted to just blurt that it was because Harry was so damned delectable, but instead he shrugged. "I like it at the house, but you don't seem to like me there."

"I work a lot," Harry admitted.

"_I_ work a lot," Draco corrected. "_You_ work constantly."

A soft smile curled the edges of Harry's lips, and he nodded. "I always mean to slow down, but don't really have a reason to at the moment."

Draco wanted to think that Harry's eyes were looking hopefully at his, as if begging Draco to be the reason to slow down, but just then a foreign arm came between them and Harry was turned to face some new stranger. The music stopped, or at least it did for Draco, as he stared at the handsome man pulling Harry away and grinding against him. He took a step back and then another until he was stumbling off the dance floor back to his table.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, her voice twisted with the question.

"He's dancing with someone else," Draco muttered, barely audible over the thumping music.

"Then _you_ go dance with someone else," she demanded.

"I don't want to," Draco replied, rolling his eyes and trying to sit down, but Hermione shifted so that he couldn't without sitting on her lap.

"Go out there and dance with someone and make him jealous," she ordered.

"That's not my style, Hermione. Plus, he'd have to be interested to be jealous," Draco huffed.

"He is interested. I've never seen him so interested in anyone before, and you were talking," she pointed out.

"Well, now someone else holds his interest, I'm leaving," Draco announced, feeling completely dejected and headed for the door. He only made it halfway across the room when Hermione grabbed his arm. "I'm leaving, Hermione, he's just not interested-"

"You abandoned me."

Draco whirled to see that it wasn't Hermione that had grabbed him at all -it was Harry. "You seemed like you were having fun, so I just left you to it," Draco replied.

"I was having fun dancing with you," Harry told him; leaning in so Draco could hear him over the music. The gesture brought with it the heady scent of Harry's skin and Draco nearly melted. "When I finally got away from him you were gone."

"Well I'm here now," Draco sighed, not really wanting to dance, but not wanting to part from Harry's side either. Harry grabbed his hand and led him toward the booths, squashing into a private one and patting the seat beside him.

Draco gladly obliged, and Harry turned in his seat to face Draco. "You really have changed haven't you?" Harry asked.

"What, from that arrogant git I used to be in school?" Draco teased.

"Yeah, that's the one," Harry replied with a grin. "I wasn't sure I could believe Hermione at first, but you seem so different."

"War and parental imprisonment are rather sobering," Draco admitted, but Harry only nodded.

"Hermione tells me you think I hate you," he said, a slight tinge of humor to his voice.

"That's not what I said," Draco rebuked. "I don't think you care enough to hate me anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, sounding slightly defensive.

"It means that at one point I think you hated me, but after all this time I don't think you care about me either way," Draco explained.

"I care enough to hate you," Harry told him, his smile returning.

"Oh?" Draco asked. "So Hermione was right after all."

"About?" Harry asked quizzically.

"She said you hated me," Draco lied, wanting to instigate trouble for the woman who tattled on his feelings about Harry to Harry.

"I don't," Harry replied seriously and with no drama or even a hint of a smile.

"What _do_ you think of me then?" Draco asked as he looked into Harry's perfect green eyes.

Harry leaned forward slightly, and Draco's heart sped up; he was certain that Harry was going to kiss him. "I think you're a nice addition to my home," he replied and winked before leaning back.

Draco rolled his eyes and was about to press his luck further when Luna and Fred came and sat across from them. "So are you two going to shag or what?" Fred asked, and Draco's face blushed a brilliant crimson.

"Stop being an arse, Fred," Harry complained. "Draco and I are just talking."

"But was this talking leading to shagging?" he asked with a smirk.

"The talking was leading to more talking," Harry replied with a roll of his eyes.

"And that talking, was _that_ talking going to lead to shagging?" Fred pressed.

"Would you stop it, I don't plan to shag Draco," Harry huffed, looking annoyed.

Draco's heart sunk a bit, not because he'd expected to wake up in the Gryffindor's bed the next morning, but just because of the adamant denial –as if it were such a preposterous notion that it was stupid to even mention it.

"You're no fun," Fred muttered and pulled Luna away.

"Sorry about him," Harry apologized. "He can be a bit gruff."

"Fred's fine," Draco muttered distractedly. "Hey, do you mind if we get out of here? I'm not feeling so well."

"Er, sure," Harry replied looking confused.

When they got to the house Hermione looked worried, and Harry hovered by the banister watching Draco trudge up the stairs. "Feel better, okay?" he called up and Draco responded with something rather inaudible before disappearing in his room.

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Authors Note: So I put some of the challenges into this part, and a couple will be left for part two. I hope you all enjoy it (Laurel especially). Oh, and clearly there is no offense meant toward Australians… lol.


	2. Part 2

Authors Note: Here you have the 2nd part of Laurel's birthday gift! I hope you enjoy, and thanks again to my army of emergency beta's Shannon, Cris and Andrea!!

The night Draco left the club early had been the beginning of his nightly stalking duties.

He'd sat awake staring at the ceiling, wishing he could talk to Harry, but not knowing how to approach the reclusive brunette. For the first time since he'd been there, Harry had treated Draco like a human being as opposed to some invisible houseguest. In fact, Harry had seemed friendly, even flirtatious toward him.

Draco could hear the telltale click that signaled that Harry had retired to his room and after taking a deep breath and mustering an ounce of courage, he went across the hall and knocked lightly.

No answer came and he didn't want to alert the entire house so he tried the knob and found it unlocked. "Harry?" he whispered as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. He was greeted with a light snore and a glorious sight.

There, sprawled in ivory satin sheets lay a very nude Harry.

With a light gasp, Draco blushed and nearly left the room but the sight captivated him in a way that made his legs glue to the spot. Harry was lying on his stomach, his face toward the wall and the sheets tangled haphazardly around his body leaving his back, one leg and part of his bum exposed to Draco's stalking eyes.

The former Gryffindor's sun kissed skin was shadowed and seemed even darker than usual in contrast to the pale sheets encircling him. Ebony curls spread across the pillow and Draco longed to run his fingers through them, but held back, not wanting to wake the sleeping beauty.

Draco didn't know how long he stood there just staring –it could have been hours or mere seconds- but he eventually tore his eyes away and made to leave, only to reject the idea when his body seemed to seize up as he approached the door. Instead he sat in a nearby chair where he could easily watch the Gryffindor slumber. He hugged his knees to his chest and just sat peacefully, smiling as Harry snored quietly and holding his breath when the man would shift and resettle. At one point Draco swore he saw the glistening emerald flecks of Harry's eyes, but he showed no sign of knowing that the blonde was there and soon enough the room filled with the sleeping man's heavy breathing once more.

It was peaceful there in Harry's room, surrounded by darkness, and the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat matched with Potter's in the secluded room. He felt less like an intruder the longer he stayed, but when the blood red sun began peeking through the curtains, Draco knew he had to retire to his own quarters because Harry would no doubt see his presence there as a violation of some sort.

Carefully he made his way to the door, pausing only when his foot connected with a floorboard and caused a silence-shattering squeak. When it was clear that the noise hadn't disturbed Harry, Draco left the room and soon enough fell into his own bed with images of Harry floating through his dreams.

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Nights progressed that way for some time. Draco would wait in his room until he heard Harry enter his own, then he would sneak in and take his place in the chair adjacent to the elusive man's bed. Watching him sleep seemed to be the only time Draco was able to spend with Harry. Though he would much prefer to have a proper date, he felt a little closer to him this way, and it made the loneliness of the house seem a tad more bearable.

It was usually uneventful, as Harry often slept soundly, but every once in awhile the Auror would stir, and Draco would freeze, not knowing what he would say if Harry awoke and caught him there. It wasn't until the end of the third week of Draco's new hobby that something magnificent happened.

Harry had a nightmare.

This wasn't magnificent in a cruel way, and though Draco would never wish such a clearly violent event on Harry, but once it happened, it quickly occurred to Draco that it was a blessing of sorts.

It had to be approaching early morning hours when it started. Draco had begun to nod in his chair, feeling warm and comforted by Harry's presence, when the other man shouted.

It startled Draco so severely that he gave a muffled shout of his own and looked over to see Harry sitting upright in bed with his arm extended as if he were holding a wand. "No!" the man shouted a second time and flicked his wrist viciously. Draco sat tensed in his chair hoping that Harry wouldn't wake himself up with the nightmare, but after a moment his screaming grew louder and more frantic and Draco couldn't bear to let Harry continue in his dark visions.

Risking everything he'd built in the house, Draco went to Harry's side and gently ran fingers through his hair and soothingly whispered that everything was fine. It took a moment but Harry finally calmed, melting against Draco and sighing in contentment. When Draco attempted to pull away Harry clung more swiftly to him. Draco didn't know what to do. If he wasn't able to extricate himself from Harry's grasp then he would surely fall asleep in the warm embrace and have a lot of explaining to do come morning. On the other hand, the Gryffindor's arms were far too hard to resist.

The decision was taken out of his hands a moment later, however, when Harry actually did wake up. He blinked rapidly in the dark and squinted at Draco with a frown. "Malfoy?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"You were having a nightmare," Draco explained hurriedly while trying to pull himself out of the bed. "I was just trying to calm you."

Harry looked down at his own state of undress and then over to Draco's fully clothed form, and a subtle smirk curled on his lips. "Did I wake you?" he asked.

"I was already awake," Draco answered, leaving off the bit about having been awake at his bedside.

"Okay," Harry replied with a smile and pulled Draco back down to the mattress with him.

"Er, do you want me to leave?" Draco stammered, unsure of Harry's sleep driven actions.

Harry opened his eyes again and studied Draco carefully. "Do you want to leave?"

Draco's heart began to beat a bit faster as the implications of the question began to set in. "No," he replied softly, and a faint smile curled Harry's lips once more and he closed his eyes again.

"Then stay," he offered simply, and Draco did. It was the first time in three weeks that Draco had fallen asleep before dawn, and he did so easily while being held in Harry's tight embrace.

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Draco didn't wake up until nearly nine and felt well rested as he stretched the stiffness from his body. When he opened his eyes however, the previous nights events flooded into his mind as he noticed the room he woke in was not his own. Harry was missing from the warm bed though, and Draco began to wonder if he had made the right decision by staying. Would Harry treat him differently now? It wasn't as if anything had happened, but perhaps Harry would think it odd that Draco wanted to sleep with him, maybe it had been a test or… well, Draco didn't know for certain; he only knew that Harry had been there with him and suddenly he wasn't. Maybe Harry's leaving was just as simple as the need to go to work, which brought on a new set of panic in the former Slytherin as he realized that he was nearly late for work himself.

He leapt out of bed and yanked open to door to find Hermione hovering in front of his bedroom across the hall tapping her foot in annoyance.

"Harry, have you seen Drac- oh!" she gasped as she turned to find her answer staring at her from the wrong side of the hall. "You scoundrel," she hissed with a wide grin. "Did you spend the night with Harry?"

Draco rolled his eyes and shoved passed his nosy friend and into his room to throw on a fresh outfit. Hermione gave him no privacy as she barged in after him with more questions. "So, I want details," she demanded.

"I have nothing juicy for you, Granger," which was what he reverted to calling her when he was upset or annoyed with her. "We just slept. I woke up, and he was gone."

"Ouch," she replied with a wince. "So, no shagging then?"

Draco simply narrowed his eyes at her in response.

"No, you're in much to sour of a mood to have gotten any last night," she mused out loud, deftly dodging a pillow that Draco hurled in her direction.

They made it to work with only a few more jabbing comments from Hermione, a smattering of mumbled curses under Draco's breath and only ten minutes late, but that served as enough for Healer Brown to penalize the poorly appreciated Slytherin with a Saturday shift, while Hermione looked on with apologetic eyes. It wasn't her fault they were running behind though, so what could Draco do?

The day seemed to drag as he thought of his night with Harry and how messed up it seemed the longer he lingered on it. Harry was probably still dreaming when he asked Draco to stay. He could easily imagine Harry freaking out a bit upon finding Draco wrapped around him as if he were Draco's favorite teddy. How appalling it must have been to discover that scene, and Draco was only thankful that he was still sound asleep when Harry woke up to find him there.

He resolved not to go into the brunette's room that night. He clearly pictured himself lying awake and ignoring any and all noises that came out of that room in favor of keeping what little dignity he had left. He assumed that if he did that, he could easily avoid the former Gryffindor until the humiliating event had faded from the man's memory.

Unfortunately, Harry seemed to have other plans.

Hermione and Ron had made dinner plans at a new restaurant they had both been wanting to sample, Fred and Luna we still away visiting relatives and would remain that way through the weekend and George was over at his girlfriend's flat, so Draco assumed he would be dining alone that Friday evening.

Never in Draco's entire stay at Number Twelve had Harry had dinner with everyone, so Draco held no expectations that it would be any different that night. In fact it might have been the first night that Draco was looking forward to Harry's absence, so of course that was the one night Harry chose to come home from work early enough to join him for dinner.

"Am I early?" Harry asked, rounding the corner into the dining room and looking at the empty chairs.

Draco lost the ability to breathe and to speak momentarily as he stared up at Harry's tousled mane and sparkling green eyes. "Plans," he muttered after a moment. "They all had plans."

"How convenient for us then," he said with a wink.

"Convenient," Draco agreed with a little enthusiasm. He could already picture the awkward silences that would hang between them, but Harry's presence made up for that didn't it?

"I'm sorry about last night," Draco blurted the moment Harry sat down with his meal. He just wanted to get it over with so that neither of them had to avoid the massive elephant in the room.

Harry looked at him quizzically and shook his head. "Why are you sorry? I'm the one whose nightmares were loud enough to bring you into my room. Though it's odd, because I could have sworn I had a silence charm in place."

"Odd," Draco agreed noncommittally before taking a massive gulp of his Butterbeer.

"Thank you for staying with me," he added with a smile that seemed genuine. "The nightmares can get bad and you're being there helped."

"Really?" Draco asked, feeling optimistic that Harry didn't think he was a massive wanker after all.

"Care to make it a regular thing?" he asked teasingly.

"What? You mean sleeping with y-you?" Draco stammered, taken aback by the direct question.

Harry frowned slightly and shrugged. "Not if the idea is offensive, of course."

"It's not –I just…" Draco stumbled, knowing he sounded like a blathering idiot, but unable to form a proper sentence around Harry. "Do you like me?" he blurted finally, causing Harry to laugh.

"I invited you to live in my home, didn't I?" Harry replied once his laughter had died away. "Look, I was mostly kidding. You don't have to get uptight about it, Draco. Let's just move on, alright?"

Draco nodded as he silently berated himself for letting the opportunity to get closer to Harry slip right through his fingers. He shoved a bite of food into his mouth to make sure it was occupied enough not to say anything else asinine.

They ate in relative silence until Harry began staring across the table at him. "'Mione tells me they treat you badly at St. Mungo's."

Slightly taken off guard by the statement, Draco merely shrugged lightly. "No worse than anyone else really. Death Eater's children are rather persona non grata these days; me more than anyone else, I'm sure given, who my father was."

"Would you like me to say something about it?" Harry asked. "I mean, I donate lots of money and know the council fairly well," he added at Draco's perplexed look.

"Why?" Draco asked, his voice a faint whisper.

"Lots of people donate money to the hospital," Harry began, but Draco cut him off with a sharp shake of his head.

"No, I mean, why would you offer to do that for me? I mean, I understood when Hermione offered, but why would you?" Draco asked.

"You're my friend," Harry responded easily, albeit defensively.

"No, Hermione is my friend. You… you're something else altogether," Draco replied.

"What am I then?" Harry asked him, raising a pitch-black eyebrow so that it disappeared into the fringe of his ebony locks.

"I'm still trying to figure that out," Draco admitted.

"Well let me know when you do," Harry said with a smile.

"Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you'd been sorted into Slytherin?" Draco asked out of the blue. He himself had wondered that very question quite often over the last decade.

"I used to," Harry conceded. "Did you ever wonder what would have happened if you were sorted into Gryffindor?"

Draco laughed harshly and shook his head. "I know exactly what would have happened. My father would have been livid and transferred me to Durmstrang."

"Really? Things were that clear cut?" Harry asked, as if the opposite were true for him.

"I love my father, but yes, he was very closed minded when it came to House division. So much so that even I bought into it for years," Draco mused. "But we all died just as easily in that war, and Hufflepuff blood is just as red as my pure blood."

A sad smile broke across Harry's face, and he nodded. "It's a shame it took you so long to realize that. We might have been friends sooner."

"You would have just gotten me killed on one of your insane adventures," Draco teased, and they shared a laugh.

"Hermione and Ron emerged virtually unscathed," Harry countered.

"And dating," Draco replied with a grimace. "Only near death experiences could have paired those two together so irrevocably."

"True," Harry admitted. "Do you think-" Harry began, but then shook his head.

"What?" Draco asked, wondering what Harry was suddenly hiding from him, but then it wasn't very sudden after all since Harry never really told him anything.

Harry shook his head and then tilted it to the side as if trying to decide the best approach to what he had to say. "I sometimes wonder if there is anyone out there for me," he said at last. "Hermione and Ron are sort of perfect for each other, even though it wasn't always that way. Then everyone else around me paired up during or just after the war."

"Emotional events do that," Draco reasoned. "People rally together and form bonds they may not have otherwise."

"Right, I get that… it's just, why didn't _I_ bond with anyone?" Harry pondered out loud. "I was in the thick of it more than anyone."

"Maybe you were too distracted, I mean, you did have a dark wizard to kill after all," Draco noted.

"What if I wasn't supposed to live though, what if I was never fated to have a relationship because I was supposed to die in that war," Harry responded, his voice shaking slightly.

"Rubbish," Draco countered. "You just haven't met the right guy."

Harry nodded and then narrowed his eyes. "I suppose it was 'Mione who told you I was gay?"

Draco swallowed thickly. "She might have let it slip, but only when we were talking about me being gay," he fibbed slightly.

Harry hummed thoughtfully and leaned back in his chair. "Well, that certainly explains a lot."

A surge of embarrassment accosted Draco's nerves as he thought Harry was referring to the way Draco pursued him.

"That must be why she's been up my arse trying to get me to spend time here," he continued. "Has she been doing the same to you?"

"Sort of," Draco agreed, though he left out the bit that he _wanted_ to spend more time with Harry.

"Sometimes she gets a thing in her head and then… well you know," Harry told him with a wave. "I'm sure you see how persistent she can get."

"Right, well, I'm sure she means well," Draco muttered. "But could you imagine? You and me?" he added with a laugh, trying to conceal his recent obsession with the idea.

Harry frowned a bit and shook his head. "No, I suppose not," he agreed softly. "Though it would be a killer headline for the _Daily Prophet_."

"And we are both rather photogenic," Draco added.

"And we live together, so we could skip right over the awkward firsts," Harry mused as he shifted slightly closer.

"We'd be the talk of every party, constant gossip," Draco whispered, also moving ever closer to where Harry sat.

"I bet you're a good kisser too," Harry purred, and Draco knew he was blushing but he didn't care.

"I could show you if you like," Draco offered seductively, and no more words left Harry's lips because they were irrevocably attached to the blonde's in the very next moment. It had been far too long since Draco had been with anyone, and far too many hours spent pining over the man he was attached to at the moment.

Sheer bliss sparked through Draco's entire body as his lips seemed to catch fire against Harry's. His tongue twisted and danced along with the Auror's, and the heady fragrance that was innately Harry seemed to coat his nostrils. Harry's lips were firm against his own, and when Draco ran a hand through the Gryffindor's mane, Harry moaned against him and pulled him tighter.

The shift caused Draco to fall from the edge of his seat and he grabbed the table for support, only to scream out as his palm connected with a sharp knife. Harry pulled back at once looking curiously at Draco's twisted face until he spotted the puddle of blood quickly accruing on the table.

"Draco, we need to get you to a healer now!" Harry demanded.

"It's just a flesh wound," Draco argued, wanting nothing more than to go back to kissing Harry. He'd heal it himself right that instant if it hadn't been his wand hand that took the damage.

"Let me see," Harry implored and practically pulled Draco's hand into his lap. "Merlin, Draco," he muttered under his breath between casting a spell or two that began to staunch the bleeding and knit Draco's skin back together. "One kiss from me and you get injured. Maybe you were right."

"About?" Draco asked confusedly while watching Harry work his magic and feeling the pain begin to dissipate.

Harry looked up at him seriously, a somber glint in his eyes. "I would have gotten you killed had we been friends in school."

"You would have saved me," Draco argued.

"You seem fairly certain about that," Harry noted with an emerging grin.

"It's what you do," Draco replied easily.

"Not for everyone," Harry told him bitterly. "So many people…"

"Hey, look at me," Draco told him, and he did, green eyes boring into his own. "You did everything you could. You're only one person, you can't save everyone, but look at how many you did save."

"Why have I never noticed how stunning your eyes are?" Harry asked softly. Draco's heart fluttered at the comment and his head felt light. Stars sparkled in his vision like a hundred fairy light, and he thought he might be falling in love with the man in front of him.

Draco smiled and shook his head lightly. "Because you've always been too busy hurling insults at me. Besides, mine are nothing compared to yours."

A spark of worry erupted behind those emerald orbs, and Harry sighed heavily. "Draco, I know we- that is to say I said some things… but the truth is I can't-" he started and Draco pulled away at once, feeling his insides begin to whither and curl.

"No, I get it. No need to continue. Clearly I overstepped, so I'll be off," he muttered and rushed away to his room, not turning back even when he heard Harry call his name.

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Draco spent the following weeks berating himself for being such an idiot. He didn't know if Harry had continued to join the others for meals because he had stopped leaving his room unless it was to go to work.

He didn't know what he had been thinking; of course the mighty Harry Potter wouldn't want to be with the leper that was Draco Malfoy. He had probably only wanted a quick shag with the only other gay man in the house, which Draco had also screwed up; though he wasn't sure if he was upset or relieved over that fact. Sure his ego would have been bruised if not broken completely if Harry had slept with him and then wanted nothing more to do with him, but on the other hand there were worse things than being used by someone like Harry.

The only time he saw the sexy brunette now was while he slept because Draco refused to give up his nightly vigil of the Gryffindor hero. Every night he would sit in his chair and not make a sound as he watched the man –who was quickly becoming his favorite person to look at- sleep soundly in his bed.

Weeks turned into months until finally Draco was pulled aside by his angry co-worker. "This has got to stop, Draco," Hermione demanded. "You've become more and more distant. The rest of us never see you anymore, and you've even got Harry asking after you."

"Really?" Draco replied, perking up at the mention of his crush. "What does Harry say?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms petulantly over her chest. "Oh sure, you don't care what the rest of us have to say, it's all about Harry, Harry, Harry! Why don't the two of you just shag and get it over with!"

"Because he doesn't like me!" Draco shouted back, unable to calm his nerves.

Hermione winced and shook her head. "He said that?"

"Yes," Draco whispered. "We kissed and then he told me that he couldn't be with me."

"You kissed? He never told me that. Hell, _you_ never told me that!" she announced sounding both elated and bitter over the fact.

"Obviously it was nothing," Draco huffed.

"Nothing my arse," she hissed. "The two of you have been moping around for weeks now."

"Why is Harry being moody? He's the one who told me to sod off," Draco grumbled.

"I doubt those were his exact words, and anyhow, he _is_ moody so maybe he changed his mind," Hermione suggested.

"How nice for him," Draco muttered.

"You should talk to him again," she said, nudging him in the ribs.

"No. Absolutely not. I'm not going to humiliate myself yet again," Draco growled.

"Fine, then you leave me no choice. I'll have to scheme you two together again," she announced with a haughty air that rivaled anything Draco could give off.

"Have at it. It won't work this time though, we're both onto you now," Draco scoffed.

"We'll see about that," she replied before storming off.

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Draco continued his nightly stalking but kept a close eye out for Hermione during the day. He knew she was a crafty one and would stop at nothing when she thought she was right about something. Trouble was this time she was wrong.

It was nearing midnight before Draco finally heard the telltale click of Harry's door and carefully he crept out into the corridor only to be met by angry chocolate eyes. "Have you been sneaking into his room every night?" Hermione demanded.

"Shh," Draco hissed, looking behind her toward Harry's door to make sure he wasn't listening in.

"Have you?" she repeated, this time softer in tone by no less urgent.

"Yes, alright. Yes. It calms me," Draco admitted. "I'll stop, just don't tell him," he pleaded.

"Don't stop," Hermione told him firmly. "It helps him sleep."

"What?" Draco gasped, eyes going wide in horror. "He knows?"

"No," she replied quickly. "He told me over breakfast that he's been sleeping better than ever these last few months, that he feels safe and watched over."

"If only he knew," Draco muttered, thinking his obsession would be much less impressed if he knew the truth.

"Draco, I think," she began, but got no further when the door behind them opened, and Harry stepped out looking startled by their presence.

"I couldn't sleep so I came up here to bother Draco," Hermione lied upon seeing Harry.

Harry completely ignored her though, his eyes focused on Draco alone. They hadn't seen one another in ages it seemed, or at least Harry hadn't seen Draco. "Since you're up, do you have a minute?"

"Er, I was just going to bed actually," Draco replied and faked a dramatic yawn while glaring at Hermione as she slinked away back downstairs –a triumphant grin on her face.

"Oh," Harry responded dejectedly. "Okay."

"Well, goodnight, Harry," Draco offered, and as quickly as he could, slipped into his room and shut the door tightly behind him. His heart was racing but he could still hear Harry pad down the hall and then back again before going back into his own room. Draco gave it half an hour before following and finding his secret paramour fast asleep.

Harry looked angelic as always with his hair sprawled against silken white sheets and Draco couldn't help but sigh in sorrow that he would never get to run his hands through those satiny locks ever again. His fingertips gently brushed his own lips as they often did when he thought of that kiss. Harry had spoiled him for other men, Draco realized soon afterward. He used to be comfortable enough to flirt and admire men who crossed his path, but he couldn't even look at anyone else without thinking about the fact that they would never measure up to Harry.

It was pitiful.

But as sad as he was, Draco couldn't seem to stop these nightly visitations.

"Draco," Harry whimpered from the bed and the blonde's heart froze, thinking he'd been caught for sure this time.

"Please, Draco," Harry repeated, this time a heated purr seemed to emanate from the man's throat, and a shiver ran down the former Slytherin's spine.

A smile curled Draco's lips upward as he realized that Harry was dreaming, and about him no less. He moved closer and noticed the sheets moving and shifting and pulled them carefully back to see Harry touching and groping himself beneath them. "Yes," he whispered into the night air and Draco flushed a deep crimson at the sight and sound of a sleeping Harry in the throws of an illicit dream.

He wanted to make it come true for the brunette so badly, but the only thing worse than being caught spying on someone would be being caught naked in bed with them –all without Harry's lucid permission. Still, the idea of pinning Harry to the mattress was hard to shake, but he did and slowly retreated from the room so as not to further incriminate himself and allow Harry his private moment.

He was wanking himself nearly the moment the door shut behind him, unable to stave off the lust that boiled within him from watching Harry's seductive wet dream. He was so enthralled that he never heard the click of the door, nor did he hear anyone enter the room. In fact it wasn't until his hand was removed and replaced on his cock with another that he looked up with wide eyes to find Harry standing in front of him.

His hair was wild and his lips softly parted as he dove for Draco's mouth. Yielding at once, Draco felt as if he were trapped in a dream. The feel of Harry's nimble fingers made him cry out until Harry bit into his bottom lip to quiet him. "Fuck, Harry," Draco groaned into the other man's mouth only to be rewarded with more fervent thrusts.

"Come for me, Draco," Harry purred against his ear, and the sound of Harry's voice alone sent him toppling over the edge, the result of his orgasm coating both of them.

"Mmmm, I've been thinking about that for weeks," Harry sighed, pulling Draco over to the bed. The blonde felt awkward and entirely confused by the exchange but refused to part from Harry's side. Soft fingers traced the expanses of pale exposed flesh and Draco whimpered against the touch, craving more from his spontaneous roommate. "I know your little secret, Draco."

His eyes shot wide and peered into Harry's hooded emerald ones. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You've been spying on me," Harry whispered and ran his tongue along Draco's bottom lip causing a shiver to envelope his body.

"I-er that is to say," Draco stammered but was quickly cut off by Harry's lips.

"I think it's sweet," Harry told him. "You've always been the perfect gentleman, even just then when I practically invited you into bed with me, you left the room."

"You –you were awake?" Draco hissed, utterly astounded.

Harry merely chuckled and nodded. "Of course. You don't really think you could lurk in the bedroom of an Auror without their knowledge do you?" he asked with a grin.

Draco fell back into the pillow and groaned his frustration. "All this time I thought you were oblivious."

"I fancy you, Draco. I know you don't feel the same, but I hoped that if you got to know me that you might change your mind," Harry admitted

"What?" Draco shouted. "Oh, I see. You're the oblivious one."

Harry's smile quickly turned into a frown from Draco's reprimand. "I didn't mean to presume-" he started but Draco maneuvered himself over Harry's exposed torso and pinned the man's arms to the headboard. "I'm fucking in love with you, you idiot," he teased.

"But you left before when I told you I didn't want to start something based on sex," Harry replied, his mouth gaping slightly at Draco's proclamation.

"You said no such thing," Draco announced.

"I tried," Harry countered. "You left and said you understood. I thought you did. I figured you weren't interested if you couldn't shag me."

"So what changed your mind?" Draco asked tentatively.

"I decided I didn't care. If I could only have you in my bed then that's what I'd settle for. Not that I wouldn't try for more, but I can't make you love me," Harry whispered.

"Because I already do," Draco replied and kissed Harry deeply before melting into him. His singular regret was the fact that Hermione would trounce around the house for the next month rubbing it in that she was right and he was wrong, but it was all worth it to have the man in his arms.

Harry pushed a lock of blonde hair behind his ear and kissed him softly on the cheek, and all was right in the world.

Authors Note: 50 points to the reviewers who caught the Monty Python quote!


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